A Phantom's Fairytale
by MelancholyEcho
Summary: Christine longs for her Angel and Erik just longs for her. Can they overcome the peril and adventure of their own personal fairytale?
1. Angel of Neverland

**Author's Note:** Hello, hello! My name is Brittany and this is my fourth fanfic, two of which are in the works, but due to writer's block, I have decided to take on this new Phantom challenge! I'm starting this story with my younger sister, Stephanie, and we have a lot of ideas for what will happen to everyone's beloved characters.

We would both like to say that this phanfic is a mix of stories blended into one, crossing over other stories without involving their characters. What we plan on doing is to use the plot lines of well known fairytales and replace the original characters with the ever familiar main Phantom characters. Some of these tales include: The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Peter Pan, Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty! We both hope you all really enjoy this story because so far it has been tons of fun to write.

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, we don't own anything to do with Phantom, which include Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

**Stephanie:** :screams: I have his boxers from last night!

:cough: Anyway, like I was saying, we don't own anything having to do with Phantom or any of the other fairytales we include in our fic.

Now, on with the first chapter! The beginning of our story's idea is based off of Peter Pan.

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"_Father, tell me again the story of the Angel of Music!" Christine asked her sickly father._

"_All right my darling, sit here next to me and I will tell you of this Angel you speak of."_

_Christine beamed, waiting anxiously for her father to tell her about her beloved Angel._

"_When I'm in heaven child, I will send to you an angel, an angel that will look after you and protect you. But not just any angel, a special angel. An angel that loves music as you do."_

"_And you, Papa! Like how you love music!" Christine squealed, hugging her father's arm._

"_Yes, indeed, this angel loves music as we both do." He kissed the top of her head lovingly. "This angel will teach you to sing and all the glories of music as I have more than you could ever dream. This angel will love you as I love you. But you must trust him and love him with all your heart. Do not worry about me, child. For once I am gone I do not wish for you to be sad. Promise me, you will be happy with your angel."_

"_I promise, Papa! I will love the Angel of Music forever and ever just like I love you." She yawned and started to drift into dreams about her angel._

"_I love you too, Christine. I love you so much."_

Christine sighed and lit a candle above her father's picture. She sat on the stone floor of the tiny opera house chapel, remembering the story her father had told her so many years ago as he lay dying. The story of the Angel of Music.

Christine folded her hands in her lap and gazed into the picture of her beloved Papa, wondering if he really ever intended to send her the angel he promised. She was never visited by any unearthly being with large white wings and a harp. But at times she did hear a voice, probably just her imagination getting the best of her.

Whenever she did hear that sweet melodic tenor she sighed, for it was like the memory of her father vocalized beautifully. But when she tried to call out for the angel who owned this voice to speak with her or hold her, it would immediately stop its sad song and disappear. The closest she ever felt to that voice was when it raised up into song with her own beautiful voice and created a heavenly sound like no other.

All of this only had one explanation, though. It was her own loneliness overwhelming her, for her father never sent an Angel of Music.

Christine began to get up when she heard the distant sound of fabric swishing against a stone wall. She quickly turned around in the tiny chapel to see if anyone was there. There was no one. Christine still felt the eerie presence of another and called out.

"Hello, is someone there? Meg, is that you?" Christine half whispered.

No answer. Again, her imagination was getting the best of her.

She said a quick prayer and blew out the flame she had lit only moments before. She started to leave the chapel when she suddenly heard an all to familiar voice.

"_Christine...Christine..."_

She took in a sharp breath and looked around the room for any signs of the possessor of the melodic voice. "Yes, is someone there?"

Again, no answer. But as she turned towards the doorway she heard the rustle of a cloak and a dark flash against the wall appeared. She gasped aloud as her eyes fixed upon the shadow flickering in the candlelight. It was a shadow of a man.

"_Christine...Christine..."_ The whisper echoed throughout the stone chapel and throughout her mind.

Christine shook her head violently, tossing her curls about, and gathered her many skirts. She wasn't going to believe in some long lost fantasy. The Angel of Music wasn't there!

She ran from the chapel afraid of her angel.

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I hope everyone is enjoying themselves so far! Did anyone see the reference from Peter Pan in this chapter? It was with Wendy and her reaction when first spotting Peter's shadow and realizing her childhood stories were all true. Please review, it means the world to us when we hear from anyone! 


	2. Part of your World

**Author's Note:** Hey there! This is Stephanie and I bring forth the second chapter, written by Brittany and edited by myself! First off, before we start, I'd like to thank a certain somebody for being our very first reviewer! **ckontowderdon32**, that means so much to an author when you give feedback. I'd never thought I would get so excited over two words!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Erik's boxers with the cute little masks on them, okay? Not like I would know they have little masks on them. No sir, not me. :looks around innocently:

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Christine fled down one of the opera houses' long corridors, trying to figure out what was going on. She finally reached the ballerina's dormitories and sat on one of the many uncomfortable cots, which belonged to her best, and only real friend, Meg Giry. 

That was how Meg found her. Christine was sitting frozen on the tiny bed, her eyes wide and her face ghostly white.

"Christine, whatever is wrong?" Meg asked, concerned for her dear friend.

Meg's sudden arrival and question broke Christine away from her trance like state. She looked into Meg's bright blue eyes with fright, as if she hadn't even noticed Meg had entered the room. "Meg, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh Christine, stop talking such foolishness! Why on earth would I not believe you? But do tell me on the way down to the gala, everyone has been wondering where you are. They're very worried." Meg began to stand but sat again when she saw her friend shake her head in protest.

"No, I can't go to the party now. I'm just to shaken up to be able to enjoy myself. I need time," she sighed, rubbing her temples.

"Whatever about, Christine?" Meg asked, worry in her light and airy voice. She squeezed Christine's hand lovingly.

"You see, I was in the chapel praying and thinking about..." Christine hesitated, wondering if Meg would think her mad if she told her of her angel.

"Your father?" Meg offered, attempting to help.

"Well, yes, and also...do you remember me telling you the story my father used to tell me about the Angel of Music?" Christine asked, desperately hoping Meg would understand what she was trying to explain.

"Yes, I remember..." Meg replied, obviously confused but Christine knew she was telling the truth. Christine had told Meg countless of times about her father's story that it would be impossible for Meg not to remember.

"Well, you see, I think my father has sent me my Angel of Music at last," Christine said, biting her bottom lip, waiting for Meg's reaction.

Meg smiled brightly, "Of course he has! I think your amazing voice proves that!" Meg exclaimed.

Christine didn't return the smile, "No, Meg, you don't understand. For a long time now I have been hearing this voice. I thought it was my imagination, but now I know different!" Christine held Meg's hands in hers tightly.

"Christine, are you telling me you actually saw your angel?" Meg asked, her eyes wide as Christine's had been before.

"He said my name, Meg! I heard the sound of fabric behind me, as if someone had been passing by, and I saw his shadow cast on the wall of the chapel." Christine's eyes wandered off as she thought of the tall male figure that was silhouetted on the chapel wall.

"Are you sure?" Meg asked, running a hand over Christine's cool forehead.

"More than anything, I know that I have finally found my Angel of Music," Christine said.

Meg nodded unconvincingly and stood, still holding her friend's hands, forcing Christine to stand as well.

"I believe you, Christine, but I fear that we must now attend that gala before we make our managers and, more importantly, my mother angry," Meg said with skepticism in her voice as she took Christine with her down to the lobby of the Opera House and to the winter seasons opening gala.

The opera managers swelled with pride as they looked over the amazing turn out of their winter gala. The ball was just a promise of what was to come. The guests danced merrily, and joyfully spoke about the upcoming shows for the season. Richard Firmin slapped his good friend, and fellow manager, André on the back.

"This is quite the sensation, isn't it?" Firmin boasted.

"Yes, Richard, I must say it seems that all of Paris' high society has decided to celebrate the new season with us!" André bellowed, waving to a cute and scaddly clad ballerina.

"Ha! Look, it is our Patron the Viscount!" Firmin said, motioning for the young Viscount De Chagny to join them in observing the grand spectacle.

"Beautiful evening! Mounsiours, I must congratulate you on your successes of last seasons productions. Let's only hope this coming season is as promising as everyone predicts!" Raoul De Chagny laughed joyfully, his blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"But of course, it will be! I have no doubt about it!" André replied.

"Now, my friends, may I ask you where your leading lady is hiding?" Rauol winked and smiled at them both.

They laughed and looked at each other, exchanging worried expressions. "Well, Viscount, is she not here?" Firmin asked, a tinge of panic showing in his voice.

"No, I haven't seen here." Raoul said plainly, waiting for the manager's explanation on Christine's absence.

"Oh, well, let me just go and retrieve her then!" André said, a bead of sweat sliding down his forehead, but forcing a smile nonetheless.

André walked off hurriedly in search of their new diva, Christine Daae, only to run into an equally upset ballerina mistress, Madame Giry.

"Madame, I am searching for Miss Daae. Would you happen to have-" André began, but the hot tempered woman before him cut him off.

"No, I have not see her! But when I do, I will let her and my daughter know that I am not a bit pleased!" Madame Giry huffed and went backstage in search for the two young women.

Christine and Meg walked down one of the many staircases on their way down to the winter gala, only to hear the sound of pounding footsteps coming up towards them. Meg clutched Christine's hand a little tighter as the footsteps became louder. Joseph Buquet surprised ballerina's when they were wondering around by themselves too often nowadays.

"Megan Giry! Where in God's name have you been!" Madame Giry bellowed at the small prima ballerina.

"I was looking for Christine so that I could take her to the gala, mama!" Meg squeaked in return.

"Then Christine, may I ask you why you have felt the need to miss two hours of a gala that is practically in your honor!" Madame Giry asked heatedly, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I...I...I was in the chapel an-" Christine began, stuttering over every word. Never had she seen her ballet mistress so angry.

"We are all good Christians, Christine, but must you pray now!" Madame Giry's voice was steadily getting louder.

"I was only just...I...I..."

"How dare you leave the party without even speaking to anyone, your patron even!" Madame Giry was now yelling as loud as she possibly could.

"I didn't mean to be rude, I just..." Christine tried to explain, but her voice wasn't letting her speak correctly, and before she knew it, her tears began to cascade down her cheeks.

"You didn't mean to be rude? Christine, how is this behavior going to reflect on me? Or worse, even your managers! I can not believe you! I am so disappointed, in the both of you!" Madame Giry threw up her hands and stormed off.

"Christine, it's all right..." Meg began, but Christine yanked her hand away.

"NO, IT ISN'T ALL RIGHT! NOTHING IS ALL RIGHT ANYMORE!" Christine screamed in frustration and ran off, leaving her friend behind.

Christine just kept running and running, paying no attention to where her feet were taking her. She went up spiraled staircases and through barren tunnels. The lights kept getting dimmer and she was running into less people, but she didn't care. She just wanted to get out of there. Away from Madame Giry, away from her managers...from everyone and everything. How did everything get so confuseing so fast?

Finally, she met up with a wall. A big poster hung loosely on the stone wall from _Faust_, a previous production that was held at the Opera House many years ago, and in her anger, Christine began yanking and tearing at the poster, screaming curses at the top of her lungs.

"_Christine...Christine..."_

She heard it again, the voice that had haunted her dreams. She looked around her, wanting and needing to see her angel, but as always there was nothing. Christine collapsed on the floor next to the shredded _Faust_ poster and cried, not knowing what else to do.

"Christine! Christine!" She heard the echo of Meg's calls and the patter of her tiny feet on the stone floor.

Christine, not wanting to be found, looked around desperately and noticed a small wooden door in front of her, just where she had ripped down the gigantic _Faust_ poster. _Why would someone cover this door with an advertisement?_ she wondered.

Without any further hesitations, she opened the door and found herself running through a pitch

black corridor.

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Well I hope you enjoyed the chapter and if you didnt pick up on it this one was inspired by Little Mermaid. Just think of when Tritan got mad at her for missing the show she was supposed to be in with her sisters. LOL...yes thats right we are disney dorks!

Please read and review!


	3. Run Away and Never Look Back!

**Author's Note:** Hello, this is Stephanie again! Thank you to **Jessica Goldberg**, **Shur'tugal's Zar'roc** and, once again, **ckontowderdon32** for reviewing! Disney dorks UNITE! Also our newest reviewer **Phantasmagoria**, thank you very much for your heart felt review. Chapter three is based on the oldest Disney movie ever, Snow White, and an appearance by our sexy Erik!

**Disclaimer:** We not only own Erik's boxers, or his left shoe:cough: DUN DUN DUN!

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All Christine heard was the echo of her own footsteps as she ran frantically down the dark corridor. Her ankles began to ache with each desperate pound of her tiny feet on the cobblestone floor.

She blindly ran, her hand sliding against the damp wall, her only guide. The hall felt never ending, until she finally slammed into a wall causing her to tumble back. She ran her hands over the cool stone looking for a door, but to her absolute misery there was none. She stuck her arms straight out in front of her and realized that the hallway didn't end, it just had taken a sharp left. She placed her palm on the wall again and continued down the black passageway.

_Is the ground sloping downward?_ she thought to herself, realizing the slant of the floor was making her go faster. She gasped when her feet hit shallow water with a splash and the monotonous sound of leaks and drips echoed and bounced off the walls around her.

The puddles became more frequent and larger the farther she was going under the opera house.

She decided she needed to slow down before she hurt herself and took up a steady, but swift, walk. The puddles had now bled together into a shallow pool around her, no deeper than her ankles. Christine hit another wall and found that she could either go left or right. But due to the darkness, she couldn't tell which was the safer route.

Left. She decided on a whim and started to travel down the tunnel. The water was becoming deeper and the air cooler. The water was now up to the middle of her shin and was as cold as ice, causing her to shiver. Her skirts were soaked from the filthy water and clung to her legs, weighing her down and making it difficult to tread through the water.

A large splash behind her made her stop dead in her tracks.

The moment she stopped, however, the tunnel became silent and the only thing that could be heard was her rapid breathing. She began again to wade through the water, with the feeling that there was still someone or something lurking behind her.

She felt as though the passageway would never end, but suddenly her feet hit something hard, and she realized there were steps going upward unto a platform out of the mirky and smelly cellar water. She moved her feet up the stairs, careful not to trip, and began to walk still blindly down the new, dry hallway.

_What have I gotten myself into? Where am I even? I can't believe I didn't turn around while I had the chance, but it's now to late. Goodness knows how many turns these hallways have taken me. I'll never find my way back to the door I came in through! _Christine thought to herself, beginning to panic.

It got to the point were she felt like giving up, but a single light up ahead gave her hope.

_A torch!_ She began running down the hallway, until she reached the torch hanging on the grimy wall. She realized that there was a lit torch every few feet, and the eerie corridor was well lit, stone,narrow and cold. She noticed water dripping from the ceiling and wondered what part of the opera house she was under.

She reached a wide, spiraling staircase that appeared to go down into the depths. A cold draft yanked and pulled at her hair as she rubbed her hands up and down her uncovered arms, in attempts to warm herself.

"_Christine... Christine..."_

Christine gasped aloud and spun her body around quickly, looking for who or even what had just called her name. Could it have been her angel, or was it some stage hand stalking her and mocking her emotions? Could whomever had said her name be the one who produced the splash? Was someone even following her, or was she beginning to go mad from this labyrinth?

Before she realized what she was doing, she was running as fast as she could.

"_Christine...don't run...don't run..." _the eerie voice called after her.

Christine screamed and covered her ears as tears blurred her vision. She was terrified. Why had she come down here? She was going to die down here if she didn't get out quickly, she knew it, but she kept running, for that was all she could do. She turned her head from side to side, looking frantically for the spirit from the past that was stalking her, but she only saw shadows and the occasional sound of a billowing cape.

She sobbed aloud as she ran. What was she going to do? Finally, the running and fatigue were getting the best of her, and she felt her legs buckle and she fell to the floor. Her head began to spin and then everything went black.

Erik stopped running after her when he saw her hit the floor. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to catch her frail form in his arms and keep her safe. But he couldn't, he wouldn't dare touch the angel. She had fainted. Erik slowly and silently crept along the wall, hiding in the shadows, until he could get a better look at her.

She was bleeding! All the sirens went off in him. He couldn't keep himself from going to her. He leaned down and examined the wound on her perfect forehead. He couldn't leave her here, she would die...he knew. But he couldn't touch her. This monster touch one of God's angels? It would be a sin, it had to be, but leaving her for dead would be far worse.

He held his breath and placed a hand under her perfect head to support her and used her other to gather her to him and hold her in his arms. He exhaled, a bead of sweat slid down between his shoulder blades and he felt clammy. He had never been this close to a human...to a woman.

He carried her to his boat and carefully placed her inside as he took the pole in hand and slowly brought his angel to the Phantom's lair under the opera.

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I hope everyone saw the the similarties to Snow White running through the forest. I think we did good. Thanks again to all the reviewers. Please everyone read and review! 


	4. Once Upon a Dream

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! It's Brittany again, and I would like to thank all the reviewers for your wonderful feedback on chapter three! Thanks to** the Mouse under the Opera House**,** Masked Painter**,** Lady Drachir, Dragonflame-05 **and, again**, Jessica Goldberg** for your great reviews! Steph and I really appreciate all the great things you all had to say!

This chapter will be based off of Sleeping Beauty. It's generally taking from the song she sings about seeing and loving her prince in a dream, without ever really knowing him...

"_I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream..."_

Yeah, you get it. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Erik or Sleeping Beauty! If only we did...sigh

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Christine felt warm and happy in the soft, comfortable bed she laid in. She was just coming out of one of the best dreams she had ever had in her entire life, about a dark prince who sang to her as she followed him through shadowed corridors. The dream felt real, like she knew the man who was singing to her. His voice was strangely familiar...

Christine sighed and batted her eyes open. She stretched lazily, but as she began to rise, she became dizzy and her hand went straight to her head where she found that it was bandaged on the right side. She stayed still to try and regain her composure, and looked around the room she was in.

"Where am I?" she thought aloud to herself.

She was laying in a huge canopy bed with red velvet blankets. All of the furniture was dark woods with gold embroidery. Everything was lush and rich, except there wasn't something quite right. There were no windows! And the walls were those of a cave, rugged rock, dark and damp.

_How did I get here, wherever here is. What was I doing last? Running. Yes, running through the opera cellars. Was this room in the cellars? And if it was, who put this down here?_ She started to look more closely at the jewelry boxes and candle operas in the room. They were props! Props from Faust, Il Muto, Hannibal, Pirates of Panzants...who had taken these?

Christine walked around the room bewildered. _Who was living under the Opera House and why were they taking props from past shows? The poor prop master must be going crazy!_ The thought of it made her giggle slightly as she ran her hand over the gold splendor of one of the tall candle operas.

She made her way to the double wood doors built into the harsh texture of the cavern wall. Christine opened the door and stepped into a cold cave-like room and looked around. The ceilings were high and the room was dimly lit.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Christine asked, but she wasn't surprised when there was no reply.

She sighed aloud and, for some reason, she wasn't afraid. Obviously whomever took her down here was nice enough to bandage her up and give her a room to stay. She would have to find the person and thank them. She went back into her room, took a candlestick and started down one of the dark and damp hallways.

She was walking and walking until finally she reached a door. "That's odd," she said, as she went for the knob. The door opened and led her into another bedroom. The room was odd looking. It was beautiful like hers, no doubt, but it was strangely decorated. There was a huge silver swan bed in the center of the room with red satin blankets and sheer black curtains hanging around it. The room was covered with even more candle operas then hers, and also sheets of parchment were scattered across the ground. She picked up one of the papers and saw that it was music. She put it back on the floor where she found it and went out of the opening in the room that served as a door into the next room.

There was a sloping stone staircase that curved around the shore of an eerie green lake. She looked around and saw hundreds of candles, paintings, mirrors, and finally an organ. _How strange the person who lives here must be!_

Christine smiled and walked around the room, taking it all in. Everything from the grand organ to hundreds of red roses that consumed the entire room. She started to hum a small tune while letting her fingertips graze the velvety softness of the rose petals. She started to think back to the dream she had early that night. The one about the dark and brooding prince with his magical voice, a voice of an angel. She smiled again to herself and began to sing without even thinking.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Yes, I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream..."

She smiled and did a small turn, letting her skirts flow around her softly. She sighed and went back up the small staircase. Her eyes lingered over the organ for a moment.

Christine walked over to it and placed a single long, pale finger on a key and pressed down. The cavern room filled with the loud rambunctious music. Christine quickly took her finger off the key and the room was silent again, except for the sound of the underground lake lapping against the stony shore. She lifted her finger again to now try a different key.

"Don't," demanded a deep male voice that echoed throughout the lair.

Christine gasped and tumbled backward, falling down to the floor. "Who is there?"

"You know who I am," the voice answered.

"I do?" Christine asked. She was shocked, trying to place the frighteningly beautiful voice to face or a memory, but nothing was fitting.

"Yes, you do. Don't you remember?" he asked, a small hint of laughter in his voice. Christine heard the all to familiar sound of a whooshing cape. Her mouth fell open slightly as realization dawned on her. Her Angel of Music was here, and he was actually speaking to her!

"Yes, you know me, for I walked with you in a dream, is that correct?" His voice was moving, she could tell. The sound of him was drawing nearer to her and, for some reason, she wasn't afraid.

She cleared her throat and started to stand. "You...you're...you're my Angel of Music, aren't you?"

The voice didn't answer back. Christine stood and waited, unmoving for the voice to reply, but it didn't. Finally, after some time, she spoke up again.

"Angel?"

"Go back to your room," the voice said flatly, all the laughter was gone now. "And don't ever leave again without permission."

Christine nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. She let out a small whimper and ran back to the room she was laying in before. Upon reaching it, she threw herself unto the bed and began to sob. She heard the sickening click outside her door as he locked her inside the room.

_Why is my angel being so cruel? Shouldn't he be loving and sweet like my father said he would be? What is going to happen to me?_

Christine shuddered and a new wave of tears left her eyes and spilled into the rich velvet of the pillow.

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**Author's Note:** I hope everyone enjoyed that! I didn't mean to, but it started to become more like Beauty and the Beast towards the end. Anyway, please read and review! Thank you! 


	5. An Unlocked Door and a Mask

**A/N: **SORRY! Yes I know that it has been for ever since me and Steph have updated and we are both really sorry. First off we would like to thank all of our readers and we hope that you still want to read this even though its been a month since we last put up a chapter.

Anyway, we will be updateing more often because we want to tell this story, so please read and review and we will keep updateing! I hope you enjoy the chapter.

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Erik paced furiously, leaving a line in the plush Persian carpet with each stride of his long legs. An angel? Her angel? He could never be that for her, and it was sick and perverted to even let the thought cross his mind that he could possibly be heaven sent.

He grumbled an angry curse under his breath. Why did she come into his home without permission. Why was she making him regret ever helping her in that cold and dirty tunnel? And why wasn't she trying harder to come back to him? He shook his head. No, he wouldn't allow himself the pleasure of thinking that an angel like her would ever willingly come to him, with her arms open and words of love on her soft and full lips. He shook his head violently again and picked up a small clock that was on his desk. He peered at his reflection in the clocks glass. He sneered at the handsome side of his face, it was so tauntingly normal, perhaps even above normal and pleasant to look upon, and then his gaze traveled to the other side of his face which provoked his already rising anger.

Erik threw the clock across the room watching it explode in a hundred tiny pieces as it made contact with the cold stone wall that served as his prison. Perhaps this place would be more tolerable if she would stay with him and would love him forever...and lift this curse.

But she would never stay once she saw him.

"She'll think I am some kind of monster!" his eyes fleetingly met the corner of a partially uncovered mirror. "LOOK AT ME!" he screamed.

Erik fell to his knees and his shoulders began to tremble, his great big tears streamed down his face. He dried his eyes with angry fists and stood again. he began walking over to his huge swan bed and collapsed on it, his own emotions exhausting him physically. He tossed his mask aside and leaned over to blow out the small candle on the table next to his bed. He snarled at the tiny golden candle holder. "What are you looking at?" he grumbled pathetically and blew out the light, succumbed by his only true friend, darkness.

-o-

Christine woke with her eyes puffy and her porcelain face tear streaked. She sighed, although her angel of music had frightened her, she missed him. She looked at the large standing clock in the bedroom she was laying in. It was 6 o'clock in the evening, she had slept all night and most of the day. This was the time he would have normally come to her, had she not made him mad the previous day? What had she done exactly anyway? she wondered.

Christine sighed again. It really didn't matter what she did or didn't do, the outcome was bound to be the same. That being the way of fate, if one of God's angels are upset with you they are going to be no matter what. Or at least until she made it better.

Until she made it better...

"That's it!" she proclaimed aloud to no one. She sat up and went over to the guilded mirror in the bedroom. Her face was pale and her eyes red. No, that wouldn't do, and besides, her dress was all crumpled from sleeping in. She walked over to the water basin and cleaned herself up.

After finding a dress in the large armoire and then pinching her cheeks to rosy perfection she walked over to the door and tried the knob.

Locked.

She shouldn't be surprised, she didn't hear him come all night, and she was a light sleeper. She jiggled the knob half-heartedly. Nothing, she sighed.

"I'll just have to wait for him then," Christine sighed again deeply and walked over to an over stuffed red velvet chair and sat. He would come, she knew he wouldn't let her sit here and starve.

-o-

Erik sighed at the bread and cheese on the plate as he sat it outside her door. He pulled out a heavy brass key and placed it silently inside the lock. He unlocked the door and placed a small note next to the food, stating plainly that she wasn't to leave the room and that he would be back shortly to lock the door again.

He walked back to his lakeside home and disrobed. He took a spare shirt, breeches and a towel. He moved a mirror and walked down a small corridor that led to a small pool that was cleaner and warmer then the large underground lake that his home sat next to. He sighed as he lowered his tense body into the water. How was he ever going to confront the girl? When was he going to let Christine know he was no angel? He ran a hand through his dark hair and took a deep breath before submerging himself in the clear water.

-o-

Christine grumbled and stood again. Well, if he wasn't coming then she was going to change into something more comfortable. She stood and walked over to the door deciding to try it again just incase.

And to her utter surprise it wasn't locked. She smiled and walked over to her night stand and carried a candle back to the door and opened it. Perhaps this was her angel's way of letting her know he was sorry and that she was allowed to leave her room.

She walked out the door, completely oblivious to the letter and the plate at her feet. She walked down the carved cave hallway and back into the mysterious home of her angel of music.

She smiled and sat the candle down, walking out of the messy bedroom and into the large room with the eerie green lake. I wonder were my angel is? she thought.

She cast her large brown eyes around the room in search of her heaven sent teacher and then they fell upon a mask.

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Well I hoped everyone liked the chapter, please R&R 


	6. Get Out!

**A/N:** Sorry about the delay but I hope you enjoy this chapter! The beginning is based on The Beauty and the Beast and then the rest has alot of familiar aspects from the movie! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** We sadly do not own either Phantom or Beauty and the Beast.

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She walked over to the white porcelain mask and bent down to pick it up. She stayed crouched as she examined it more closely. The mask was very fragile and yet seemed

well used. The inside was lined with soft, white treated leather. It looked comfortable. At

least as comfortable as a large facial mask could be.

She began to stand when she saw something, or better yet, someone move out of the corner of her eye. She froze out of fear and heard the deep and angered breathing of someone hiding in the shadows.

"What are you doing?" asked a deep and obviously desperately controlled male voice.

"I...I'm just..." she began, still unmoving. She couldn't even turn her head to look at whomever it was.

"I said, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" the voice boomed. Christine screamed and stood quickly. "Get out," the man said, his voice low and furious.

"I'm sorry..."

"GET OUT!"

Startled, Christine dropped the white mask on the cold unforgiving floor, smashing it into pieces.

Her eyes were wide and terrified as she stared into the shadows where the voice had came from. She couldn't see anything, but she heard the deep and heavy breathing of an incredibly angry person. She saw his silhouette, the outline of a human man. His form was large and intimidating. She stepped towards him slightly, only to be met with the sheer force of his voice screaming at her to leave.

"GET OUT!"

Christine screamed again, turned on her heel and ran. She ran back into the bedroom and through the door that led into the hallway, eventually leading back to her room. Instead of heading straight, though, which would take her back to her velvet prison, she took a left and ran swiftly down a dark and empty hallway.

She kept running until she came upon a large stone stairway that seemed to spiral upward for an eternity. She continued running, though, and the stairway kept going. Finally, she found herself on a platform that led into another hallway. She decided that her options were limited and ran down the hallway.

There were unlit candelabras mounted on the walls and the hallway was fairly dry and looked somewhat well used in comparison to the others she had been running down. After so much running, Christine hit a cold smooth surface. Glass?

It was glass. A window to be exact. But instead of the window peering outside, it was a window into a room. A woman's dressing room. _Her_ dressing room!

Christine tried to push the glass window open, but nothing happened, so she tried to slide it to the side and it worked. Christine stepped inside her dressing room and the glass sliding door closed behind her.

She glanced back at the door she had come through and it was nothing more than the guilded mirror that she had gazed at herself in for years. Why was she capable to look through it and see the inside of her dressing room from the other side? What kind of perverse monster was this man who kept her hostage in the cellar? Or was he a man? He couldn't possibly be an angel.

Then it hit her. Perhaps there had never been an Angel of Music and some sick person had taken advantage of her loneliness and played off her childish vulnerability by pretending to be her angel!

She shook her head violently from side to side in an attempt to rid her thoughts of such things. There was an angel, who taught her how to sing and the beauty of her own voice. Her father would never lie to her. Perhaps heaven-sent teachers are just a tad temperamental when you invade their personal space. She laughed slightly to herself and sighed. She only had herself to blame. She had trespassed after he told her not to. He had every right to be mad, although he could have handled it better.

"_I_ could have handled it better. I should have at least tried to talk with him." She sighed, walked over to the small plush couch and laid down.

"I should have talked with him..." she whispered to herself and then exhaustion got the best of her and she fell into a deep slumber.

-o-

The next morning Raoul DeChagny burst through the Opera Populaire's front doors in desperate pursuit for the opera's two overzealous managers. Upon reaching Monsieur Firmin, he demanded to be taken to Christine.

"Well, that wouldn't be very appropriate, Monsieur. Perhaps if we have the Giry girl go up and tell her you are calling for her."

"Monsieur Firmin, I have been calling for her for the past three days and I have yet to see her. She wasn't even present for the gala. I am starting to think that you have no idea where she is!" Rauol bellowed.

"Calm down, Monsieur. There is a perfect explanation for Miss Daae's whereabouts." Richard Firmin tried to reason. The truth is he had no idea where the yound girl was. "Well, you see..."

"Monsieurs," a stern voice sounded behind the three men. Raoul spun around to find the ballet mistress and her daughter standing there. Meg Giry curtsied to the three gentlemen before her as Madame Giry forced a smile. "I couldn't help but overhear your little conversation. Miss Daae is safe and sound. She just needed some rest."

"You have found her, then?" Raoul questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, monseiur," little Meg piped in.

"Why hasn't this been brought to my attention sooner?" Raoul asked angrily.

Madame Giry sighed, "She had just shown up mere hours ago and wished to be left alone. That being said, I trust you will not bother her, Monseiur." Madame Giry smiled politely, but Raoul wasn't going to give up that easily.

As the two women left the foyer of the Opera House and towards the ballet dormitories, Raoul followed in close pursuit. "Where has she been this entire time? I was worried sick," he pressed the stern woman.

"I do not believe I have the liberty to tell you such information. Now, please leave my daughter and I alone." With that said, Madame Giry left the two younger people with a sense of finality.

Raoul desperately turned to Meg, "Little Giry, do you have any idea where Miss Daae had run off to?"

Meg gazed up at the Viscomte dreamy eyed, "Her Angel of Music!"

Raoul looked down at the starry eyed child and shook his head. He walked back to the opera doors and made his way back to his carriage all the while troubled by the thought that there perhaps some perverted fanatic preying on Christines innocence. If so, Raoul vowed to himself as he climed into his large black carriage that he would protect Christine no matter what.

-o-

Erik's frame darkened the small round window at the highest room in the entire opera house. He gazed down as the Vicomtes lush carriage pulled out into the road. What was that stupid boy doing in his Opera House? And better yet what was he doing yelling for his Christine to be brought to him.

_His_ Christine.

* * *

Sorry again for taking a long time to update but I've been busy! I just got back from the hospital two days ago! BUt dont worry I am alright, I had a kidney stone of all things and they kept me there to run a million tests it seemed. It's funny though all of the nurses say child birth should be a walk in the park for me now. That puts into perspective how much pain a kidney stone can cause. Ouch! Anyway I will update again as soon as I can. The next few chapters though are going to be mostly character fillers and the development of Raoul's and Christines relationship. But worry not our Erik will make a quite wonderful return! I actually already have that part written. Anyway, R&R! 


	7. An Opera from a Ghost

**A/N: **Well here is another chapter! Thanks to the reviewers! I am glad your enjoying my story thus far. Anyway first off I would like to say that "Pelléas et Mélisande" is not ananonomys workand that Achille-Claude Debussy wrote it, but for the sake of my story lets play pretend. Also this isnt really based on any particular fairy tale, its really just a plot point/filler chapter. Anyway i hope you like it.

**Disclaimer**: I dont own Phantom of the Opera or Pelléas et MélisandebyAchille-Claude Debussy.

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Andre Montclair grumbled angrily under his breathe while peering over score after score of music samples for the winter season. Everything had to be perfect. now with their diva back in the opera house safe and sound the two managers only had to secure four arias and anopera for the close coming winter production season.

Richard Firmin sighed from across the room and tossed a sheet of music aside and stretched. "Seriously my good friend, all of the music samples are dreadful! I cant stand to look at another!" he exclaimed loudly.

"Yes, I feel the same way but I am afraid we must until we find something to compliment the opera!" Andre replied.

"What opera!" Firmin shouted throwing up his arms.

"Might I make a suggestion sir?" came the familiar voice of the opera houses ballet mistress from the doorway.

Firmin glanced her way and rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not?"

"Richard lets hear what she has to say." Andre sighed, rubbing his temples.

Madame Giry walked over to Andre's large mahogany desk and slapped down a leather bound folder that was filled with newly written on parchment.

Andre took the folder out from under the woman's hand and opened to find an opera score written in the sweeping strokes of a master. Andrea peered at the title of the opera.

"Pelléas et Mélisande by Erik Gurrior." Andre said aloud to the other two people in the room.

"Well, what's it about Andre?" Firmin asked intrigued.

"Well I haven't read it yet now have I? But it seems Romeo and Juliet inspired, no?" Andre asked partly to Madame Giry.

"If you would like Monsieur to save time you could always read the summery in the back of the piece." She sighed sounded slightly annoyed.

"Summery?" Firmin questioned.

"Yes, a summery monsieur Firmin, as is the custom of any composer to put the summery of his work in the back to save the buyer time." She was the who rolled their eyes now as both men looked at one another dumbfounded.

Andre cleared his throat and mumbled "Oh. Yes, of course." In an attempt to save face. He turned to the back and found the summery written in the same beautiful handwriting. "Pelléas et Mélisande, is as subtle and haunting as the story of the mysterious and beautiful creature Mélisande, coaxed from her dark forest home to secretly wed Golaud, whom is the grandson of King Arkël of Allemonde of the near by kingdom. The King forgives his son Golaud for marrying the fairy girl. One day though, Mélisande was wandering in the garden with her husbands younger brother Pelléas, while with him she drops her wedding ring in a pool in the garden, magically causing her husband to be injured in a fall from his horse. From his bed, Golaud sends Mélisande after the enchanted ring to save him. Pelléas accompanies her and while together they fall innocently into childlike love. Jealous of his brother, Golaud warns Mélisande away from Pelléas. But because of her undying love she agrees to a last meeting with Pelleas, and the couple abandon themselves to their premonitions of doom. Suddenly in the midst of it all, Golaud bursts on to the scene and slays Pelléas and chases Mélisande, wounding her slightly. Later after burying her love she gives birth to a girl and Mélisande quietly dies, resisting repentant Golaud's pleadings and denying any guilt to the end." Andre finished.

"My goodness..." Firmin started.

"It's quite amazing and if you read the music and look at the scale you will see it easily fits miss Daae's range perfectly."Madame Giry claimed nonchalantly.

"Yes, well then we must take it directly to the Mistro!" Firmin said rising with Andre following in close pursuit holding the opera close like a baby.

Madame Giry smiled slightly watching the two men scamper off. "They seem to like it." she said out loud.

"Yes it seemed they did." a voice responded from the shadows.

"Perhaps we can show some of Erik Gurrior's arias for the pre show."

"Those idiots don't even have arias for the seasons pre show?" the man said irritated as he stepped out of the shadows his billowing black cape gathering in folds around his ankles.Madame Giry turned amused eyes toward Erik as he causally leaned on the wall looking annoyed. His jet black hair was in perfect place along with the stark white mask that covered half of his face.

"Well, I am sure they will be looking for arias that compliment their new opera," she smiled and tapped her instructors cane on the wood floor for good measure.

"Is that you way of mandating me to write the arias also?" he grinned slightly.

"Well you already knew you were going to do it, and it isn't like it will take you long. But I

feel like I am more on top of things if I demand them," she grinned and walked past him and out the door.

He laughed slightly to himself and walked back into the shadows and down one of his many trapdoors to his cellar home to create the arias.

-o-

Monsieur Reyer brought his hands down swiftly causing the orchestra to take their bows from the vibrating strings and then placed their hands on the neck of their instruments to make the swelling sound of their music halt in a dramatic end.

Andre and Firmin clapped enthusiastically from the plush velvet seats they sat in. The Mistro turned to the two men sitting in the house of the Opera Populair. "Sirs, I do believe this is some of the best music I have ever heard the orchestra play. I think that it is an excellent choice for the winter opera. Now it's just a matter of hearing the sad words sung, no?"

"I couldn't agree more Monsieur Ray-uh..." Firmin struggled with the name slightly before turning to Andre only after catching the mistro rolling his eyes and huffing out an annoyed breath.

"Yes, yes, someone go fetch the Daae girl. Shes the only obvious choice for Mélisande isnt she?"

-o-

Christine ran her finger tips over the cold smooth glass of her dressing room mirror and sighed."Why haven't you come back to sing to me?" she whispered.

He never came back, not even to sing his low sad song that she used to believe only a figment of her imagination due to intense loneliness. He no longer wanted to be her angel, he must hate her. "I don't hate you...don't hate me." She said a tear sliding down her face.

A brisk knock sounded before someone opened the creaky wood door. Christine wiped the tear away quickly and stood watching the ballet instructor walk into the room. "Christine darling the managers would like you to come down to the house to sing a part for them. It seems they have found an opera." Madame Giry smiled slightly and waited for the girl to leave the room before she closed the door and followed.

-o-

Erik finally pulled his hand from the glass of his mirror window into her world. "I don't hate you." He stood and watched as the mark of her palm on the glass got swallowed by the cold. He felt tears brimming, he couldn't stand watching her loneliness progress to depression. He leaned his head against the glass and rested his palm again were hers had been minutes ago. "I love you."


	8. An Aria for the Heart

**A/N:** Swwy about deleting and then reposting this chapter but I had to fix alot of mistakes. Anyway thanks again to all of chapter 7's reviewers! You know I appriate all of your words:) ... sssoo thank you: **Dragonflame-05,** **ckontowerdon3**,** the Mouse in the Opera House**, and our newest reader **ChristinErik**!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own phantom or "Wuthering Heights" and "Across the Universe of Time," by Hayley Westenra that i claim as Erik's aria ...lol.

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Christine was obsessed. She was truly obsessed with the opera she held in her hands as she brought her perfect voice to ring in eerie harmony with the beautiful music. She had become the sad creature Mélisande. She felt the pining affection for a man she wasn't supposed to have and yet needed to posses.

She smiled and nodded to the Mistro after the song came to a close, letting him know she was taking a break from the rehearsal. She sighed, "This Erik Gurriour is a master, no doubt!" she said and ran her fingertip over the sweeping signature on the title page. She had fallen in love with the man's work.

His words had struck a cord and the past week of singing them had landed her heart in the awkward position of loving one aspect of a person she didn't even know.

"It's the music," she said to herself, hugging the leather bound folder that contained the whispered wonder of love and pain that had captured her heart and rendered her soul.

-o-

"Madame, the arias you ordered," Erik whispered into the ear of an unexpecting Madame Giry. Although she gave no sign of being startled, she truly wasn't expecting Erik or his arias so early in the day.

"So soon?" she asked, taking the bound arias into her hands, searching the shadows for that egotistical grin.

"Yes, Madame. I've been slaving over the arias and then copying them over and over for the past week. I have had near to no sleep, but for all my pain I offer perfection."

She heard the pride in his voice. It was a wonder how he wasn't choking on it. She smiled slightly in the direction of his voice and bowed her head as she walked away to go give the arias to the managers.

Erik watched his old friend walk into the managers office and close the door. He smiled and walked through a hidden door in the backstage hall that he opened with a series of secret pulleys and weights and then swiftly climbed a ladder into the rafters above the stage. Upon reaching them he found a dark corner to hide in, and watch her sing his opera.

He spotted Christine drinking water out of a fine crystal goblet as her eyes gazed at the lyrics he wrote for her voice. He watched her as she handed the glass back to the stage hand and began to practice her scales as the orchestra plucked their strings and tuned their instruments.

Monsieur Reyer tapped his conducting rod on his music stand to announce that break was over and that they were starting from the second act of the opera. The orchestra raised their bows to begin and Christine took center stage to sing the sad song of Mélisande.

"WAIT! Wait, Mistro! We have something else for Christine to sing and for you music people to play," Firmin practically screeched, throwing the music sheets at Christine and the orchestra.

"May I ask what this is, Mounsiours?" Reyer sighed, holding his head in his hand.

"Yes, it is the arias for the winter season!" Andrea exclaimed triumphantly.

"And can you believe all four were written by the same composer as the opera!" Firmin put in.

Erik watched with subtle and prideful delight as Mousier Reyer's head jerked out his palm as he snatched the leather bound director's copy and read the lyrics and music. Erik tried to contain his laughter as he watched the veteran Mistro put down the folder with his mouth gaping open.

"This is magnificent!" he proclaimed and directed his orchestra to play the first piece based off the scadoulous book 'Wuthering Heights'. "Miss Daae, from the beginning of the first aria."

Christine gasped aloud and held the music tightly against her chest with the tinge of blush rising from her bosom. "I...I can't sing this! It's so...so...riskay! Do you know what Wuthering Heights is about?"

The Mistro sighed aloud, sounding irritated, "From the beginning of the aria madamemoselle!"

Christine looked back down at the music and reluctantly began to sing the song about Heathcliff and his other half Cathy.

"_Out on the wiley, windy moors  
We'd roll and fall in green.  
You had a temper like my jealousy:  
Too hot, too greedy.  
How could you leave me,  
When I needed to possess you?  
I hated you. I loved you, too_."

Christine hit every note with amazing precision as the jumpy, almost cheerful music met her pace.

"_Bad dreams in the night.  
They told me I was going to lose the fight,  
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering  
Wuthering Heights.  
Heathcliff, it's me-Cathy.  
Come home. I'm so cold!  
Let me in-a-your window.  
Heathcliff, it's me-Cathy.  
Come home. I'm so cold!  
Let me in-a-your window.  
Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,  
On the other side from you.  
I pine a lot. I find the lot  
Falls through without you.  
I'm coming back, love.  
Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,  
My only master._"

Christine shook off a slight shiver with the last verse of the fifth stanza of the aria. This seniro was hitting to close to her heart, and the dreams of her masterful Angel of Music.

"_Too long I roam in the night.  
I'm coming back to his side, to put it right.  
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,  
Wuthering Heights,  
Heathcliff, it's me-Cathy.  
Come home. I'm so cold!  
Let me in-a-your window.  
Heathcliff, it's me-Cathy.  
Come home. I'm so cold!  
Let me in-a-your window.  
Ooh! Let me have it.  
Let me grab your soul away.  
Ooh! Let me have it.  
Let me grab your soul away.  
You know it's me-Cathy_!"

Christine finished the aria holding the triumphant declaration to heathcliff for longer than most sopranos could ever dream of achieving. She ended the song as the music faded into itself and left the room vibrating.

"Bravo! Bravo!" the two managers boomed for the seats of the opera house. Christine smiled slightly and motioned to the conductor that she needed a break. She placed the folder on the lip of the stage and walked through the wings and backstage past the flysystem and fell onto the plush red velvet couch used in so many of the plays.

She breathed deeply relaxing her diaphragm. She closed her eyes and watched as the figures of Heathcliff and Cathy rolling entwined in one others arms danced in her mind. When she felt a warm hand on her shoulder she almost screamed. Her eyes shot open and she stared into the dark eyes of Meg Giry. She sighed and sat up to face her friends smiling face.

"They want you back out there to sing the other arias."

Christine nodded and stood."Tell them I am coming, I just need a drink."

"I will." Meg smiled and made her way back out into the house to find the managers.

Christine walked over to her half empty water glass and sipped. She leaned her head back to gargle the water and massage her vocal cords. She slowly went through her scaled as the water bubbled and jumped in the back of her throat.

Then she saw them...

Two piecing green eyes fleetingly staring into her own causing her to gag on the water in shock and then spit it out unto the floor. She immediately looked back up into the rafters and saw nothing.

She shook her head and walked back unto the stage.

"Good to see you again Miss Daae, may we continue?"

"Yes, Mistro, may I only sing one more though? I am feeling quite exhausted."

"Yes, that's fine, so now then the beginning of the second aria?" Mousier Reyer said tapping his music stand.

She picked up the folder and turned to the second aria and began to sing:

"_When the sea falls from the shore  
As the light sinks low, will I see you any more?  
As the rain falls from the sky  
Can I bring you back, from a distant lullaby?_

_Show me your vision, the story begun  
Two lights are rising and burning as one_"

She felt her loneliness grow with each word, she missed her angel and this song was fast reminding her of his voice and soothing company.

"_In the deep blue of the night  
Shine the millions of stars and my spirit burning bright  
Spinning on, into the sun, flying higher  
Now my journey's begun... And the...  
Cold, cold wind, it blows me away  
The feeling all over is a black, black day  
But I know that I'll see you again  
And I know that you're near me_..."

She felt her eyes begin to fill with tears as she gazed into the rafters hoping that those green eyes were those of an angel. The longing to be with her angel was becoming unbearable, she needed him she needed to know her angel will be near her like the song proclaimed.

"_There's a star, calling my name  
It's echo is true and the song is not the same  
Take my hand and lead me away  
Bring me back to you in your arms I'm going to stay...  
Tell me your vision, the story begun  
Two lights are rising and burning as one  
All those years drifting in space  
I have known you well, yet I've never seen your face..."_

She felt the hot tears run down her face as the truth of the words stung her heart. Was this song written for her pain? Why was this Erik Gurriour so sad and did he know so much about her pain? She breathed deeply and continued to sing.

_"You turn around, looking at me, laughter in your eyes  
And now I can see  
And the cold, cold wind, it blows me away  
The feeling all over is a black, black day  
But I know that I'll see you again  
And I know that you're near me."_

Christine shuddered and fell to the hard stage floor tears streaming down her face. She hugged her knees and her heart begged for her angel.

"Miss Daae!"

"Madame Soprano are you all right?"

Christine stood, ignoring the concerned calls of the Mistro and managers, and walked back to her room.

-o-

Erik stalked her steps, knowing that his words are what upset her. He watched her hold herself and cry herself to sleep. He watched her toss and turn in her sleep, calling out for her angel. And once he reached to touch her curls, but she mumbled something about green eyes and he yanked his hand back.

Erik knew she had no clue it was he who wrote these words and he also knew that she didn't hate him, but she hated his pain. It would be better if she forgot about him. He would never come to her again. He kissed his white glove and then laid it next to her as a token of his love. He watched her grab for it in her sleep and hold it against her cheek, absorbing his warmth. He knew they would never be any closer than right then.


	9. Lurking in the Shadows

**A/N:** I know it has been forever since i last updated but school has started and it is already a busy year. I will through be updateing the next to chapters soon. Chaper 11 in based off cinderella. its my favorite and i hope you guys will like it when i post it. anyway without further ado here is a healthy dose of angst.

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Christine went through the next two weeks as if living in a dream. She hadn't had any visits from her Angel and to cope with the pain of abandonment she engrossed herself in the arias and the opera written by Erik Gurriur. Her life was now her work.

She did miss her angel though and thought that perhaps he had come back when days ago she found a mans white evening glove in her hand when she awoke, but now she had come to terms with the fact that it was either a token from a fan or perhaps the parting gift from her angel.

She walked out of her dressing room holding her script humming the tune to herself as she made her way to the costume room to get fitted for the billowing green gown she was going to wear in the opening scene of the opera. She tapped the costume room door with her knuckles twice and then let herself in never taking her eyes from her script.

"What you weren't going to warn me who the hell ye were lassie?" said the loud voice of the costume mistress. The curvy Irish girl walked over to Christine and tugged and pulled at the dress she was wearing until she found herself half naked in the middle of the costume room surrounded by busy seamtresses. she blushed profusely and made a grab for her dress.

"No, no girlie I got to fit you for your dress. I can't very well do that with ye already wearing something now can I?" the costumer laughed to herself and walked over and to the rack of half finished costumes and yanked down a silk green dress full of pins. she walked back to Christine and pulled it over her head with no warning. She then began to hem and cut the dress to fit Christine's tiny frame.

Christine shrugged not used to the harsh manner of the Irish and went back staring at her script.

-o-

Erik watched as they put his masterpiece together with a remarkable pace. He observed all of the technical work from the comfort of the shadows and the acting from the rafters. The scene shop had constructed a life like forest and castle for the two separate sets for the opera.

The costumers had made almost all of the costumes and were just doing finishing touches on some of the more elaborate pieces. Props were done and cataloging the pieces that were being used and the stage crew had already done two complete run-throughs with the actors in costume and everything had gone smoothly.

Everything was almost complete for tomorrow night. Erik sighed and leaned lazily on two ropes. The pieces were falling together, and after the winter gala for the closing of the season, he would be a legend.

-o-

Raoul de Changy pulled his carriage in front of the Paris Opera house. He leapt from the carriage and waltzed up to the door with a bouquet of roses in tow.

He whistled to himself as he made his way towards the large stage Christine was practicing her blocking on. He watched her as she slowly and methodically went through every step while saying her lines to herself.

"Christine!" Raoul called out to her.

Christine stopped running through the play and looked up to see who had just called her name. It was Raoul. she tried to mask her disappointment and turned to him with a fake smile.

"Hello Monsieur," she replied curtly.

"Monsieur? What is with the cordiality? I'm Raoul Christine no need to put on the visage of propriety. we are friends!" He smiled and draped an arm around her shoulders in a more the friendly fashion and walked with her backstage.

"Yes, friends," she confirmed and walked slightly ahead of him allowing his arm to slip off of her shoulders."Is there something you needed Raoul? I am afraid I have a lot of work to do in preparation for tomorrow."

Raoul stared at her blankly and then shook away the sting of regection."Oh yes I was wondering if you would care to dine with me this evening." He said gaining cofidence with the proposol, most any girl would love to dine with the young viscount.

"I'm afraid that would be impossible. I have to much to practice tonight, thank you for your offer though." She spit out her reply quickly and turned on her heel and left the viscount in utter shock.

-o-

Erik almost died from laughter. He watched from the shadows as the viscount asked for an audience with the beautiful diva, and she rejected him with no conviction.

_But why?_

The question stopped his laughter and echoed through his mind. He pondered over the idea that she may already have interests in someone else, jealously surged through him almost causing him to become ill. he turned abruptly and followed her. Upon reaching her he found her talking with the tiny Giry girl. he watched them from a dark shadow.

"Why did you turn him down Christine are you blind?" Meg asked looking at Christine like she was insane.

"No, its just I don't have feelings for him in that way." Christine said holding her script tightly against her chest.

"Well, is it because there is another?" Meg questioned.

Christine smiled slightly as she ran her index finger over the gold signature of Erik Gurriur on the leather cover of her script.

"Well, is there?" Meg pried.

"No, hem, no there is no other. I must go." Christine said and left the confused ballerina to ponder how sane her friend really was.

Erik followed her. He stalked her. He wanted her. And she wanted Erik, or his words. It didn't matter she was in love with what he said. If only she knew it was all for her. He watched her the rest of the day as she practiced her scales and she performed a flawless dress rehearsal.

He loved her, and she was going to meet Erik Gurriur at the seasons closing gala after the performance tomorrow.


	10. A Perfect Voice

Swwy its been so long since i last updated. so here you do! two chapters at one time.

* * *

The first three arias were a complete hit. The crowd was standing on their feet shouting miss Daae's name. Andre and Firmin practically giggled in their seats in the managers box as dollar signs reflected in their eyes.

Christine changed into the black dress she was to wear for the final aria before the intermission and then the opera was to begin. She slipped her tiny form into the sleek silk black dress. The garment was so scandalous, and she loved it. she breathed deeply and exercised her voice before standing in the wings waiting for her cue to go out on stage and sing the final aria, which was her favorite piece in the entire show.

Christine felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned to see Raoul behind her. He smiled hugely and took her into a huge and unwelcome embrace. she finally yanked herself from him and look up appalled into the obliviously happy blue eyes. She almost felt bad for him.

"You are doing wonderful! I cant wait to see what else you can do with you amazing talent!" he smiled again and wished her good luck before a temperamental stage manager ushered him from back stage and ordered her to get her skinny butt out there and sing.

She laughed slightly to herself and walked out into the eerily lit stage. The audience was silent as she took center stage and the music began.

This aria was called "Dark Waltz" and it was her favorite part of the entire show. The music began with a strangely sad melody and then a lonely and sad quartet arose from the humming of the orchestra. The violinist made his instrument sing the dark waltz above everything else. In the piece the violin solo was her accompanist, he hit notes she could only dream of hitting.

Then began her voice.

_We are the lucky ones  
We shine like a thousand suns  
When all of the colour runs together _

I'll keep you company  
In one glorious harmony  
Waltzing with destiny forever

Dance me into the night  
Underneath the full moon shining so bright  
Turning me into the light

Time dancers whirling past  
I gaze through the looking glass  
And feel just beyond my grasp is heaven

Sacred geometry  
Where movement is poetry  
Visions of you and me forever

Dance me into the night  
Underneath the full moon shining so bright  
Turning me into the light

Dance me into the night  
Underneath the full moon shining so bright  
Let the dark waltz begin  
Oh let me wheel - let me spin  
Let it take me again  
Turning me into the light

Christine finished the aria with an amazing crescendo and the audience jumped to their feet. She took and polite curtsey on stage and then exited the stage and made her way to her dressing room.

-o-

Erik watched her from the rafter his own tears blurring his vision. His protégé was his love and she just sang his arias with haunting perfection.

The play was to begin in thirty minutes and the following night was the masquerade ball.

Everything was going as planned.


	11. Masked Man

It was the night of the winter masquerade and Christine smiled at her own reflection as she pinched her cheeks so to emit a healthy and charming glow. Her grin widened as she took a step back and looked at her full reflection in the tall mirror in her large and opulent dressing room.

She was as perfect as a painting, her dress was as white as an angels wings with glittering crystals sewn in to make her sparkle like a diamond. Her beautiful brown tresses were pinned up in a way to frame her face perfectly before cascading down her partially bare back.

she turned and giggled feeling wonderfully. she hadn't felt this good in along time, even if her angel was no longer in her life. she shook her head slightly to rid her mind of thoughts of her absent angel. she could no longer tire herself over thinking about him, she had angered him that night she found the stark white mask and ever since then he never visited her again. she no longer had a teacher, she no longer had her mystically friend.

she sighed sadly. it was like loosing a loved one. no not as tragic as when her father had died but more so as if her lover had left her for another. she sighed again and went towards the door. on the way out she picked up the mask she was to wear for the masquerade, a white affectation that went across both her eyes and was adorned with tiny crystals around the holes where her eyes were to peer out of.

Christine put on her mask and left her dressing room.

-o-

"Andre! Have you heard the news?" Richard Firmin asked his business partner.

"Obviously not, and I suppose your going to tell me then?" Andre raised an eyebrow smiling.

"Monsieur Gurriur! He is here!" Richard proclaimed, hardly capable of containing his excitement.

"The Opera House architect?" Andre ask quizzically.

Richard paused and then shook his head. "I am not sure about that but the Monsieur Gurriur who wrote the arias for the winter season!"

"_Erik_ Gurriur?" Andre asked now very interested. "Now that is interesting."

"Yes, I know, he is all the rave with the ladies, I had no idea that he was so young!" Richard said with a hint of scandal in his voice.

"Really how young?" Andre countered now searching for the composer.

"Oh I would guess no older than thirty-two maybe thirty-four?" Richard estimated.

"My goodness that is young for possessing such talents, now isn't it." Andre asked standing slightly on his toes in order to get a larger view of the ballroom. "Now point him out already so that I may introduce myself."

"Yes, yes he is right over there, the one in red. Red Death I believe is what he is dressed as. You know the one from Poe's most recent story." Richard rambled.

"Ah yes the one surrounded by all the women." Andre smirked. "And yet he seems to be ignoring them all, odd."

"Maybe he's one of those dandies" Richard said absently turning his attention to the supplant figure of Meg Giry and the other ballerinas.

"Perhaps I will go see for myself." Andre declared and made his way towards the man in red.

-o-

Christine came from the side corridor and into the colossal ballroom, with its mighty staircase and lavish gold statues. She smiled at all of the adoring fans and politely took the compliments.

"Miss Daae your voice is stupendous!"

"Mademoiselle your talent is sent from the gods themselves."

"Christine darling, however did you learn to sing like that?"

She smiled and gave amiable answers. Finally she came to the throng of corps de la ballet dancers and let out the breath she wasn't aware she was holding. she put her arm though Megs and whispered in her ear. "I never knew I was going to be so well received."

Meg smiled up at her best friend. "Well, with a voice like your Miss Daae what would you expect?"

Christine laughed at Megs uncanny mocking of all of her newly obtained fans.

"Oh my Christine I almost forgot! The man who wrote all the arias for the winter season, he's here!"

Christine looked at her friend startled. This Erik Gurriur, the mysterious composer whom indulged her musical love affair with his work was at the ball? She smiled and was suddenly eager to meet the man.

"Is he? Well, I would love to speak with him." She smiled.

"Oh believe me when you see the man you will want more than causal conversation!" Meg giggled. Christine pinched her friend for her frankness sending the two girls into fits of laughter.

"Well, now I must speak with him!" Christine said through her giggles and cast her eyes around the room in search for this supposedly handsome Monsieur Gurriur.

-o-

Andre approached the intimidating figure of m. Gurriour and bowed to acknowledge his much appraised talent and presence at the winter ball.

Gurriur bowed back slightly, sending an air of arrogance. Andre examined the man and just his sheer size! Andre knew he was a small man at his stocky five foot five inches but this man was easily over six feet tall and his presence and demeanor made him seem even larger. up close it was also easy to see why the women were flocking his way. He was strikingly handsome even with half of his face covered by the skull inspired mask. His long cap of slicked back black hair was striking against his white skin and sea green eyes. he was tall and slim and obviously strong under his red visage. Andre would hate to think how sickeningly beautiful the man would be without the mask.

Andre cleared his throat and took out his hand to be shook by the now famous composer. Monsieur Gurriur shook the hand with a fierce grip.

"Well, met Monsieur and must I say that your arias and opera were amazing. Very beautiful I must say."

"They are only half of what they appear to be because of who sang them." Gurriur replied with no emotion in his deep clear voice.

"Yes, miss Daae, she has an astounding voice," andre said dismissive, more interested in whether this Erik Gurriur was willing to supply them with a spring score of arias or perhaps even an opera. "So Monsieur, may I call you Erik?"

"No." he said flatly.

Andre cleared his throat again now feeling awkward "yes well I was wondering if we should be expecting more of your wonderful arias for the spring season?"

"I am not sure of that of yet. I would first like to meet the woman who brought life to my work if you don't mind," and with that the tall man in red left a slacked jawed manager standing alone on the grand staircase.

-o-

Raoul de Changy walked up to the radiant Christine with his hand drawn outward to take hers. " may I have this dance?" he asked a boyish grin placed upon his handsome face.

Starteled Christine turned to her old friend and forced a smile back at him. Hadn't she made it clear she wasn't interested in him in that way. "Oh no thank you, I am afraid the night has already began to take a toll on me and if I am to stay any longer I shouldn't dance. Nothing exhausts me faster than a waltz." She said trying to be light hearted.

Raoul tried to mask his disappointment.

"I would love to dance!" proclaimed the tiny voice of Little Jammes, a young ballerina.

Raoul smiled politely and took her hand in his and took her out the dance floor to waltz away his embarrassment.

"Why do you like rejecting handsome men?" Meg asked amused.

"I don't like it." Christine replied.

"Then why do it?" Meg giggled.

"I don't like him in the way he likes me and I wouldn't want to give him the wrong impression." Christine sighed out.

"Its a shame, him being so handsome and so very rich." Meg sighed and then giggled.

Christine shoved her playfully and laughed.

"Oh Christine! There, there is the famous Erik Gurriur!" Meg exclaimed and pointed to a tall man in red who was making his way toward them.

When Christine finally focused on him he was standing in front of her in all his glory she all but had to keep her mouth from dropping open in sheer shock.

"Mademoiselle Daae, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," he held out his hand and she placed hers in his and watched in awe as he lightly kissed the top of her silk white glove.

She smiled politely and tried to keep from turning bright red.

She cleared her throat and beamed up at him."I believe Monsueir it is my pleasure, your work is magnificent."

"Only because you sang it my dear," he grinned slightly down at her.

She all but had to keep herself from fainting, the man was a dream. He was talented and beautiful, the energy he sent through her electrifying. "Thank you..." she practically stammered out.

He laughed slightly deep in his throat, it was a low intimate sound that made her feel bare and embarrassed and yet it was slightly familiar sound. Had she heard that laugh before? She shook the thought of her head, she wasn't going to let any other memory or thought cloud her senses now, she was going to fully appreciate everything the man in front of her had made her feel and was going to talk about his music.

"Your arias are Mousier you are truly the most amazing composer I have come across!" Christine exclaimed adoringly.

"Yes, they nearly had us all in tears." Meg added, her eyes full of lust for the handsome man in front of her.

Erik all but ignored the luscious ballerina next to Christine as his charming smirk turned slightly arrogant at the sound of the singers adoration. Erik couldn't believe what was happening, Christine was staring at him the way he dreamed she would. she was proclaiming him to be the most talented composer. And he thought almost saw something of want glitter in her eyes. He was nearly exploding with love for her. Then before his better judgment could ease into his conscious he offered Christine his hand.

"May I have this dance Mademoiselle?"


End file.
